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The ear piercingly loud screech of a phone call immediately shatters Tim’s peace, his sleep, on his one night off this week. He sighs, instantly starting to roll over to grab the dreaded thing off the nightstand.
“Noooo,” Kon whines, awake now too, wrapping his arms tight around Tim’s waist. “Please. Not tonight.” Tim feels a pulse of guilt tight in his stomach, but pushes it off.
He presses a kiss into Kon’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I have to, babe.”
“No.” Kon insists, stubbornly locking him into place with his TTK.
Tim sighs heavily. “Not funny, Conner Kent. Let go.”
Kon does, and Tim moves away, eying him while reaching for his phone. He’s pouting, staring out their bedroom window into the dark Gotham night.
“The batsignal isn’t even on.” He mumbles. “It can’t be that important. He has like a million kids, can’t they go one night without you?”
Tim snorts, refusing to dignify his boyfriend's whining with a response. His fumbling hand finally manages to grab the phone, bringing it up to his face. He sits up suddenly, tension snapping into his body.
Kon is on high alert instantly. “What?”
“It’s Damian,” Tim responds with a frown, answering the phone and bringing it up to his ear with a quickness. “Hello?”
“Finally, Drake. Are you going deaf in your old age?” Tim’s younger brother, Damian, sneers from the other line.
Tim just rolls his eyes and tries to ignore the flood of relief he feels, the instant release of tension in his muscles, the fact that he can feel Kon relax too. There’s no real urgency in Damian’s voice. “What do you need, Damian? It’s late, you know I’m not working tonight.”
The line is quiet for a moment, then he hears a small shaky breath.
“Damian? Is everything okay?” He starts to climb out of bed, shakes off Kon’s hand as it locks around his wrist.
“I need you to come get me.” The voice on the other end is so uncharacteristic of Damian that Tim doesn’t even clock what’s wrong about it at first.
“Is something wrong? Are you safe?” He asks, walking to his closet and pulling on a hoodie before crossing to his dresser for sweats.
“Of course I’m safe, idiot. I just can’t drive. Not legally, anyways.” That’s when it hits Tim. His brother's voice, back to being just as snarky as ever, is slow, slurred.
“Damian, are you drunk?” He asks, in absolute befuddlement. Kon sits up in the bed, a look of delight crossing his face. Tim shakes his head aggressively at him.
“Never mind. This was stupid. I’ll get home another way, thanks for nothing.”
“No, Damian, wait. I’m coming. Send me the address. We can talk when I get there.” The line clicks dead. Tim is seconds away from pulling up his trackers, he’s pretty sure he still has at least a couple Damian hasn’t found and disabled yet, or at least is pretending not to have found yet, when a text comes in from Damian with nothing but an address twenty-five minutes away. “Oh my god, he’s totally drunk. He’s fifteen years old, and drunk,” Tim tells Kon, finally pulling on his pants.
Kon snorts, obviously finding it hilarious. “So what, he’s a teenager, teenagers drink. He’s being smart, he called you,” Kon offers.
“He should NOT be drinking! Teenagers do not just drink! I didn’t!” Tim gestures emphatically.
Kon raises an eyebrow. “That’s because, respectfully, you were the biggest killjoy on the entire planet, man.”
Tim tries to let his boyfriend's comment roll off his back, knows he’s objectively right, but it still stings a little. Something is still nagging at him. “You don’t understand, it’s Damian. He’s not…I don’t know, I have to go get him.”
“Babe, come here,” Kon says, sitting on the edge of their bed now. Tim goes to him, and Kon wraps his arms around Tim’s waist, looking up at him. “He’s okay. He’s a kid, and he made a dumb decision, but you’re going to go get him, and it will be fine.”
Tim sighs, relaxing slightly. “You’re right. Thank you.”
“I just wish he hadn’t finally decided teenage rebellion was no longer below him on your night off.”
Tim snorts. “Tomorrow night is Halloween, the worst night of our year, it’s all hands on deck. I guess he needed to get all his bad decisions out of the way,” he says wryly.
“Mm. Halloween. Do you want to ask Bruce if I could patrol with you guys? Might be fun,” Kon asks, looking up at Tim like a puppy dog.
Tim sighs, bringing his hand to Kon’s back and rubbing it softly. “Babe, we’ve talked about this. I’m not ready.” Kon only looks crestfallen for a second before schooling his expression, but it still feels like a knife directly into his gut, and Tim would know.
“Yeah, you’re right. Stupid idea. Go get your brother,” Kon says with a false ease, leaning away from Tim.
“It’s not stupid. I understand. I just…I have some things to work through, first. We’ll talk more later,” Tim tells him, pressing a kiss into his forehead. “I’m probably gonna have to take Dami to blud, I’ll be gone awhile.”
“You want me to go with you?” Kon offers, like the absolutely incredible boyfriend he is.
“No, He’ll only ask questions. You’re not really supposed to be in Gotham.” Tim shoots him down with a sad smile, like the absolute worst boyfriend that he is. “Don’t wait up.” He says, pecking Kon’s lips in a goodbye kiss as he detangles himself.
“You know I will. Be easy on the kid, okay?” Kon says with an easy smile as Tim walks towards their bedroom door.
Tim hums in response. “We’ll see.” Tim reaches for the doorknob as Kon starts speaking again.
“And Tim? Go the speed limit. He’ll be fine.” Tim knows that’s a promise he can’t make, so he just smirks, waving goodbye to Kon and walking into his living room. He pulls his shoes on and grabs his keys as he walks to the door. Once he’s in the hallway of his apartment complex, he pulls his hood up over his head, walking quickly to the elevators with purpose.
As he walks past his neighbors' doors, he glances at their decorations. Halloween. An absolutely horrible night for crime in Gotham, several rogues seem to get particularly antsy on the holiday. Tim’s never really liked it, at least, not since becoming Robin, but Gothamites have an indestructible spirit. Fear will not keep them from celebrating the day, even though it should. Tim knows that come tomorrow night, the hall will be filled with children in their best costumes, the smartest ones wearing their Gotham-issued gas masks. He hopes, for their sake, that there won’t be any major attacks. They deserve to have fun.
As he makes his way into the elevator, punching the button for the parking garage, he starts to wonder if Kon will want to hand out candy. They got a sign in their mail to hang on the door the other day if so, and Tim will need to pick some up, because Kon will forget. Tim thinks it seems like the kind of thing he would enjoy, he loves kids, and he’s better with them than almost anyone Tim knows, except for Dick, maybe. Of course, maybe he’ll prefer to spend Halloween with Ma and Pa, Maybe he’ll fly to Kansas, and spend the day there. For just a moment, Tim allows himself to fantasize about joining him. He bets the farm looks gorgeous this time of year, fall leaves on the trees. They could go for a walk and admire all the colors, and then he could spend the night handing out candy to children who weren’t wearing gas masks with their princess dresses.
Tim shakes it all off. He knows better than to fantasize. He has a duty to his city, a duty to his family. He doesn’t need to celebrate Halloween. Even as his mind wanders with thoughts of the upcoming holiday, he is hyper vigilant as he walks across the parking garage to his car, only relaxing once he is inside with the doors locked and the engine started. After, of course, checking his backseats.
He pulls up the GPS on his car’s display, plugging in the address Damian had sent him. As he drives, he allows himself to puzzle through the events of the night so far, wonders why exactly his little brother had called him. Not why he called somebody, that much was obvious, but why he called him specifically.
Tim isn’t stupid, or delusional. He knows he and Damian aren’t that close. Damian doesn’t try to kill him anymore, and Tim (almost) never gets the urge to sock him in the face anytime they have to spend a considerable amount of time together. At least, he gets the urge only slightly more often than he gets the urge to sock his other brothers. This is progress, but it doesn’t make them best friends. For the most part, they’re like civil acquaintances, allies, maybe, on a good day. Tim knows that, and that’s why he’s confused.
He starts to break it down in his head. It’s obvious to him why he didn’t call Jason. Jason doesn’t handle substances well, for very good reasons. Combine that with the fact that Jason’s protectiveness and worry, his love, tends to manifest in volatile anger, and Tim wouldn’t have called him either. Bruce, too, feels obvious to Tim. Damian is likely trying to avoid being benched, not to mention Bruce just doesn’t really have the emotional capacity to properly deal with this kind of thing. He’d lecture, and yell, and pull the “I’m so disappointed in you” act, so yeah, no thanks. So basically, Tim is confused why Damian didn’t call Dick, or even Cass, or Duke, or really anyone else other than Tim. Tim would’ve put himself at the bottom of the list, if he had ever thought about this scenario. Maybe he’s the only one who isn’t patrolling tonight, he thinks, and instantly decides that’s the only logical explanation.
The rest of the drive is spent just trying to keep himself awake. Tim can feel his exhaustion weighing on him, sleep attempting to root into his brain and tug him back down. He glances at the clock, and upon seeing that it’s one thirty in the morning, flips the radio on for some background noise. He really tries not to feel frustrated. It’s just that he and Kon had such a nice day, and all he wanted was to spend the night cuddled up to his boyfriend, and right now, it doesn’t feel fair that the universe couldn’t give him one night without a crisis. Sometimes, uncharitably, he thinks that his family does this on purpose. That they can somehow feel when he’s growing tired, thinking it might be time for him to retire, so they have to remind him just how little they can function without him. That keeping them functional has always been his job, since the second he became Robin to save Bruce.
Tim doesn’t want to stop being Robin, not really. It’s just that sometimes….sometimes, he thinks about he and Kon on some farm in Kansas, where the sky is blue and the air is clean, and he doesn’t have to walk around terrified for his life all the time. About spending weekends at the Kent farm, sipping on lemonade, and enjoying Ma’s pie while Pa ribs him about being a city boy. He thinks about the way Kon lights up when he’s back at the farm, and wishes he could give him that without betraying his family. His heart stings, and he wants to cry. If he’s honest with himself, this is part of why his family doesn’t know about Kon. There’s some part of him that’s afraid that if they did, he’d be identified as a threat to Tim’s loyalty, and be driven out. He knows that that’s an insane way to think, that his family is not evil. He knows that Dick in particular would be absolutely devastated to know that these thoughts were ever in Tim’s head. The whole family would, to be honest. He’s just so, so tired, and he wants his boyfriend.
He reminds himself that tonight’s crisis is not a Robin crisis, it’s a Wayne crisis, and that he wouldn’t give up being a Wayne for anything in the world, even if he ever does stop being Robin. Unless, of course…well, unless his family wanted him to. If their love is contingent on fulfilling his role. Tim knows it’s not, that they would never cut him off just for that. He knows that he’s Bruce’s son, his siblings' brother, Robin or not, but still, that insidious doubt, the “would they still love you if you were someone else?” still creeps in. It’s probably more Jack’s fault than anything the Waynes did or didn’t do, some leftover trauma from when his father found out he was Robin.
The GPS informs him that he’s coming close to Damian’s location, and he takes a minute to gather himself. Being this on edge when he’s trying to figure out what the hell is going on with Damian isn’t a good idea. He takes a deep breath, letting it out, and working through some meditation techniques Bruce taught him as he pulls into a somewhat shady-looking apartment complex. He isn’t too worried at first, most places in Gotham look at least a little bit sketchy, but as he pulls up to the front, he sees his little brother sitting there, slightly curled in on himself, all alone.
Alarm bells start screaming in his head as he turns the radio off and pulls up to the curb. Who in their right mind would leave a young drunk teenager alone, especially in Gotham?? He feels angry, and terrible that he hadn’t been driving as fast as he could’ve been. He comes to a stop by where Damian is, rolling down the passenger side window. “Get in. Now.” His voice comes out in a growl, rivaling Bruce’s.
Damian’s head snaps up, seemingly in fear. He relaxes when he sees that it’s Tim, and Tim’s stomach churns again seeing how off Damian’s normally razor-sharp reflexes are. He looks at Tim with confusion. “Why’re you mad?” He slurs.
“Just get in.”
Damian pouts, tipping backwards and lying on the grass.
“Damian, come on. Please, it’s late. I’m tired,” Tim begs, softening his voice a bit. Finally, Damian stands, wobbling a bit as he makes his way to the car.
He feels downright furious at whoever left his baby brother like this, and yeah, alright, maybe he’ll have to rethink that “acquaintances, allies at best” thing, because the levels of fury and protectiveness he feels over the kid right now rival Dick Grayson levels. Anything could’ve happened to him, he can’t fight like this. Tim wants to pummel something, or someone.
Damian pulls the door of the car open, climbing into his seat and pulling the door shut behind him. He glances over at Tim, and giggles. He giggles! Extremely un-Damian-like behavior. “You look like shit.”
“Yeah, well, I was sleeping,” Tim snaps, turning his head to stare at Damian. “What in the fuck is going on? Where are we?”
“I was invited to a Halloween party,” Damian answers, as though that much had been obvious.
“And? How’d that end with you out here by yourself, calling for a ride home, exactly?”
Damian looks vaguely uncomfortable then, glancing away from Tim. “Everyone was drinking, and they told me I should too.”
“Oh, Dami. That’s peer pressure, kid. You don’t need to give in to that.”
“I just thought….but, no. It was a trick.” Damian’s hands make fists in his lap as he stares down at them, and alarm bells are blaring in Tim’s head again.
“Damian, what happened?” He asks with an eerie calm, hands tightening on the wheel.
“I was the only one drinking. Their alcohol was all water. They waited until I was truly intoxicated before they told me, so that they could all laugh at me,” Damian says, voice barely above a whisper. “I messed up, Drake.”
Tim immediately knows, with a sudden, sick certainty that when Damian had said “I thought…” he was going to finish that sentence by saying that he thought they wanted to be his friends. Bruce told him that Damian was having some trouble fitting in at school, bullies, but Tim didn’t know it was this bad. “Which apartment?” Tim asks, already starting to get out of the car.
Damian lurches forward, grabbing his wrist “No, Drake, don’t! Leave it. I’m not incompetent, I can handle it on my own. I just want to go home, please.”
It’s the fact that he’s never heard Damian say please to him more than the way his voice wobbles at the end that convinces him, Tim tells himself. Besides, there were better ways to get revenge. Maybe he’d have Oracle track them down, then sic Jason on them, or Dick. Yeah, that would teach them their lesson. He sighs, settling back into his seat. “Fine. I guess I’m not taking you back to the manor, am I?”
Damian looks at him like he’s an idiot. “That would be preferable.”
“Okay. Bludhaven, then?” He asks, starting to pull away from the apartment complex. He watches Damian’s face blanch and a look of pure anxiety take over his features out of the corner of his eye.
“If those are my only options, I’d prefer the manor,” Damian says, swallowing harshly.
Tim snorts, the idea of Dick being the scary disciplinarian in Damian’s life amusing to him for some reason. Especially as he seems to remember lots of unsanctioned adventures with the man, including but not limited to the time Dick took him on a smuggled WayneTech prototype jet, dropping him off in Europe, and lying to both Bruce and Tim’s father about Tim’s whereabouts, even as Jack had filed a missing persons report. All because Tim had told him he needed space and time to think about the whole Robin thing.
But, when he thought about it, it did make sense. Dick had been Tim’s much cooler older brother whom he idolized. He was in a position where he could be the one keeping Tim’s secrets from Bruce and doing stupid things with him. Damian, for all intents and purposes, was temporarily Dick’s son. Dick had custody of him while Bruce was gone, was the first person to break through that prickly exterior to the scared little boy underneath. They hadn’t thought Bruce was coming back, and Dick had plans to adopt him officially. Of course, that changed, but still, Tim imagines you can’t just turn that off and go back to being the cool older brother, not just like that.
He sees the way Dick looks at Damian sometimes, like he hung the moon and the stars, like he wakes up in the morning just for him. It hurts, sometimes. Especially because he knows Dick used to look at him like that. Before he decided Damian needed Robin more, needed him more, never mind that Tim had just been orphaned for the second time.
He knows that Dick still loves him, that love doesn’t shrink, it grows, but still. It’s just different, and that’s hard sometimes.
Damian piping up from the passenger seat jars him from his thoughts, reminding him of the task at hand. “Are you going to tell them?” His voice is small and insecure.
Tim shrugs. “No. I figure you’ve been punished enough. Natural consequences, or whatever. Just don’t do it again, not until you’re old enough,” he answers easily.
Damian seems to melt with relief, before looking over at him. “So, are you taking me to the manor? Do you think father will be able to tell?”
Tim glances at him. He’s not acting overly drunk in the typical sense, he supposes, not right now. But he’s definitely acting atypical compared to his normal self, and there’s a high flush on his cheeks. Tim weighs his options briefly, sighing. “No. I’m taking you to my apartment for the night.”
“Oh. Okay.” Damian seems to relax into the seat after learning he won’t be put to the test of passing for sober tonight.
“There’s something you need to know, though,” Tim says, cringing, knowing his secret ends tonight. Damian will tell Dick, and then everyone will know about Kon. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted. “There’s someone else there. My…partner.” He says.
Damian wrinkles his face. “Okay? Why should I care?”
“I just wanted you to be aware. Excuse me for trying not to catch you off guard,” Tim scoffs.
Damian seems to scrutinize him for a second. “Does father know?”
Here it comes. “Nope. You’ll be the first.”
“They’re a boy, aren’t they?” Damian asks.
“Yep.”
Confusion covers Damian’s features. “But…father already knows about your…proclivities, so why should that matter? He won’t care.”
“It’s not about him being a boy, Damian. I know you guys don’t care about that.” His voice gets lower as the rest comes out in a mumble. “It’s about who he is.”
Of course, even in his drunken state, Damian catches it. “Someone we know?”
“Yes,” Tim says, his knuckles tightening on the wheel.
Damian goes silent to think it over, every emotion and thought he has telegraphed obviously on his face in a rather comical way. Tim decides to rip the band-aid off.
“It’s Kon-El, Damian. Conner.”
Damian’s face sours with disgust, typical. “The clone?” He sneers.
“Do not call him that in front of him, I’m serious. It will hurt his feelings Damian, and I’ll drive you right to Dick’s apartment myself and tell him exactly what you were doing tonight.” Tim’s voice is hard, serious. He doesn’t play about this stuff.
Damian throws his hands up. “Relax! Geez, touchy. Why should anyone care who your boyfriend is? I don’t.”
“It’s not that I think people will care, not really,” Tim says softly, unsure why he’s even bothering to answer the question. “I just-…..it was nice, to have one thing I didn’t have to share. Something that was just mine again.” For just a moment, Tim sees more hurt flash across Damian’s face than he ever has in the entire time he’s known him, but Damian schools it almost instantly. “Oh, Dami. No, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry,” Tim tries to soothe.
“Whatever,” Damian sneers, characteristic meanness back in his voice. “I don’t care. You’re lucky that I still allow you to wear the name that is rightfully only mine. If you don’t want to share, just go be someone else. Robin is mine,” he snarls.
Tim ignores him, knowing the damage is done and anything he tries to say will just make Damian more angry. He lets him stew silently for a few minutes, watching as his anger fades. Finally, Damian looks at him again.
“Does Jonathan know?”
“Yes,” Tim answers carefully.
“And he didn’t tell me?” Damian asks, sounding betrayed. “What about the alien?”
“If you mean Clark, yes, he knows. Kon’s entire family knows.” Tim sighs.
Now, Damian’s eyes bug out of his head. “And he didn’t tell father? What is this betrayal…..” he murmurs, and Tim laughs.
“They didn’t tell because we asked them not to, and because it’s none of their business, Damian. Other families have boundaries, you know. They don’t get so heavily involved in their kids' relationships.”
“Boundaries….” Damian muses, as though the concept is foreign to him, and Tim smiles softly to himself, glad the tense moment has passed. They’re stopped at a red light, and Tim takes the opportunity to fully look at his brother for the first time.
He’s wearing a blue jacket with the Kryptonian S, and a small red cape attached to the shoulders like Jon used to wear. Tim grins. “Nice costume.”
“Ugh, shut up. Father wouldn’t let me wear my Robin suit, and Jonathan left this at the cave once. This was not my choice.”
Tim laughs. Attempting to convince Bruce to let them be Robin for Halloween was a time-honored tradition, at this point. They had all tried it. Dick hadn’t even been able to talk him into it when he was still door-to-door trick-or-treating. Tim had managed only once, when Young Justice threw their own city-sanctioned Halloween party, and that was a matter of protecting his identity, and in turn, the secret. Damian had been doomed from the start. “Right, I’m sure. Doesn’t have anything to do with missing him,” Tim can’t help but rib.
Damian scoffs, turning to look out the window. They make the rest of the drive In silence, although Tim can tell that Damian is really starting to feel the drinks. By the time he pulls into the parking garage and gets out of the car, he’s wondering if Damian will make it to the elevator, as he looks a little wobbly.
He does, to his credit, and before Tim knows it they’re at his apartment door. He turns to Damian. “Be nice,” he reminds one last time as he pushes the door open.
“Hey, how was the little brat?” Kon asks, sitting on the couch and facing the far wall.
“I am not a brat,” Damian snaps, and Kon turns, eyes comically wide.
It occurs to Tim then that he should’ve called ahead to warn Kon that Damian was coming, as he jumps up and starts stammering through an excuse. “Uh, hi, Damian. I was just here because I needed Tim’s help with-“
“It’s okay. He knows,” Tim cuts him off.
“Oh.” Kon sighs in relief, then winces. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Tim smiles at him, a little sadly, mourning their secret. He knows Kon will be glad, though. Permitted that Bruce allows him to stay. Which, he will. Of course, he will. Tim pulls off his shoes, directing Damian to do the same.
Kon seems to realize then what Damian is wearing, as a massive smirk takes over his face. “I like your costume.”
Damian scoffs. “I am not meant to be you, you pig head. I am the superior Superboy.”
Kon laughs it off, used to Damian’s antics. “I’m aware. My jacket is much cooler.”
Damian attempts to snarl a reply, but his face suddenly turns pale, and he rushes to Tim’s bathroom, shutting the door. The sound of vomiting reaches their ears as Tim walks up to Kon, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's waist and finally losing himself in his embrace.
“Oof, Poor kid. Aren’t you gonna help him? Go rub his back or something?” Kon asks, rubbing Tim’s back with his hands.
Tim snorts. “Fuck no. If he wanted to be babied, he should’ve called Dick.”
“Aw, c’mon, Tim. He’s just a kid,” Kon says, pushing Tim away.
“If you want to get your head bitten off, be my guest,” Tim says.
“He can’t be that bad,” Kon laughs, filling a water glass and knocking on the bathroom door. “Damian, buddy. Do you need anything? I’ve got you some water?”
“No! Go away!” Damian shouts from the other side. Kon is undeterred. He pushes the door open, and Tim comes up behind him with a sigh, in case he needs to intervene. Damian is on the floor by the toilet, curled into a ball and moaning.
“Come on, kid, you’re okay. Rinse your mouth out,” Kon instructs, handing Damian the water. To Tim’s surprise, he listens, swirling the water around in his mouth and spitting it into the toilet. He shuts the lid and tries to stand up, but Kon stops him, grabbing his elbow. “Don’t get up yet. Give it a minute.” Tim tenses, waiting for Damian to scream about being touched, but it doesn’t come.
Instead, he whimpers pitifully. “I’m never drinking again.”
Kon laughs. “That’s what they all say. You’ll change your mind.”
“Oh my god, don’t encourage him,” Tim snaps. “Drink your water, Dami.” Damian obeys, before turning to Tim.
“Tim. Help me,” he calls helplessly. Tim freezes. That’s the first time he’s ever heard Damian call him by his first name, at least the shortened version, in his life. Kon grasps the significance, beaming up at him, but Damian seems unaware he’s done it.
Still, Tim steps forward, grabbing Damian’s hands and helping him to his feet. He’s considerably more unsteady now. Kon flushes the toilet as Tim helps support Damian while he washes his hands.
“Can you get him some more water?” Tim asks Kon softly. “And some blankets and a pillow for the couch.” Kon nods, leaving them, like the angel he his.
Tim brings Damian into the living room, and they sit on the couch. “Do I need to text Bruce and come up with a reason you’re with me tonight?” He asks.
“No. The party was supposed to be a sleepover.” Damian sniffles, and Tim has exactly one second to be terrified before Damian bursts into tears.
Fuck a no-kill rule, he’s going to tear those children apart limb by limb and feed their bones to Titus. Whoever made Damian cry like this, they’re going to pay.
Tim has no idea what to do, he’s so completely out of his depth. “Fuck them, Damian. You’re better than them.”
“I-I know!!” Damian wails, “I don’t know why they think they can treat me this way. I could end them. I don’t know why I care.”
“Because you’re human, Dami, and it hurts. That’s okay. It’s okay to feel things. You don’t have to push them down so much.”
Damian sniffles, wiping his eyes. “I’m sorry I ruined your night,” he says, softly, and Tim’s heart wrenches as guilt floods him. Earlier, he had felt like his night was being ruined. Now, he’s not so sure.
He reaches out, laying a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “You didn’t ruin my night, Dami. I’m your brother, I’ll always be there for you.”
Damian suddenly, very aggressively throws himself into Tim’s arms, crying renewed.
Tim freezes, shock seeping into every bit of his body. He sees Kon coming with the bedding and shoots him a panicked look. Kon mimes rubbing Damian’s back, so that’s what Tim does. “It’s okay, Dami,” he mutters in his ear as Kon sets the blankets and pillow down silently before going for some water.
“I’m so sorry I’m so mean,” Damian cries into his chest. Tim doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he just keeps rubbing his back.
“It’s okay, Damian. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” He finally settles on, taking the glass of water from Kon when he comes back. “Here, drink this, buddy.”
Damian pulls back, keeping one hand wrapped in Tim’s shirt as he takes the glass and starts to chug.
“Whoa kid, slower. You don’t want to throw up again,” Kon corrects, and Tim is no longer shocked when Damian doesn’t snap back, finishing the water slowly and handing Kon the glass. He stretches out on the couch, starting to get comfortable.
Tim doesn’t feel right leaving him while he’s still crying a little, so he doesn’t go anywhere.
“I cry when I drink, too,” Kon offers. This is a lie. Kon is seldom a drunk crier, but he does get extremely affectionate. Even more tactile than he already is. Tim knows what he’s trying to do though, so he doesn’t bother correcting him.
“Everything will feel better in the morning,” Tim tells Damian again, softly.
“Yeah, except maybe your head,” Kon teases, and Damian makes a face.
“I’m sorry I messed up your night,” Damian tells Kon softly, and Kon scoffs.
He brushes it off with ease. “You didn’t mess up anything, kid. Don’t worry about it. I don’t even need to sleep that often, everything is fine,” he says, flashing Damian one of his award-winning smiles. Damian seems to relax then, suddenly looking really sleepy.
“You’re a really good brother, Tim. And a good Robin,” Damian says, as he lies down in Tim’s lap.
Tim is absolutely stunned into silence for a moment, bringing his hand up to Damian’s hair and running fingers through it. “Thank you for saying that, Dami. I love you,” he says finally.
“Mmm. Don’t leave yet, not until I fall asleep.” At this rate, that will be in just a few seconds, but Tim isn’t going anywhere for a million bucks. He gestures over at the bedding Kon brought. “Can you hand me the pillow?” He asks his boyfriend.
Kon smiles at them fondly, eyes soft and full of love. “Do you guys want the bed? I’ll sleep out here.”
“No, it’s fine,” Tim whispers, still running his fingers in Damian’s hair.
Kon nods, grabbing the pillow, and handing it to Tim. Tim shuffles Damian around until he’s lying on the pillow in Tim’s lap as Kon, slowly and gently, brings the blankets around them. If you told Tim by the end of the night he and Damian would be snuggling while his boyfriend tucked them in, he would’ve made fun of you.
“Goodnight,” Kon whispers, coming over to press his lips to Tim’s.
Tim tries to put all his affection into the kiss without moving enough to disturb Damian, who is starting to snore softly. “Goodnight. I love you, I’ll come to bed soon.”
Kon shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it, stay out here as long as you need, baby. I love you too.”
As Tim watches Kon leave for their bedroom, he continues to scratch Damian’s scalp. He looks so, so young, asleep like this. He’s older now than Tim was when he became Robin, by at least two years, and that thought stabs Tim through the heart before pausing to remember Damian was even younger. Tim wasn’t around much, those days. He avoided the new Batman and the kid wearing his colors as much as he could. Too busy on his quest to bring Bruce back, on infiltrating the league, on trying to clone Kon, and dating Kon’s girlfriend because she was the only other person on the planet who knew how much it hurt to lose him. Come to think of it, it’s pretty reasonable that Dick had thought he had gone mad in his grief, and therapy in Metropolis didn’t feel like as bad an idea in hindsight as it had felt then. It hadn’t been that Dick didn’t love him. It was that he loved him so much he didn’t know what to do, and that Damian desperately needed someone who loved him too. Damian had also lost his father. Tim can live with that.
Tim tries not to fall asleep, wanting to spend at least the last part of his night snuggling with his boyfriend, but he starts to drift off. The last thought he has is that this is the first time he and Damian have ever spent this much time this close together without knives being involved.
He does wake up at some point in the early morning, slowly detaching himself from his brother without waking him up and padding off to the bedroom where Kon is already starting to get up. He’s an early riser, fully embracing the secret identity of being a farm boy through and through, even if it was originally just so Ma and Pa didn’t have to do so much work. Tim convinces him to snuggle a little longer, falling back asleep in his boyfriends arms.
By the time Tim wakes up for real, the sun is fully in the sky, and the apartment is filled with the smell of sizzling bacon. He follows his nose, getting up and walking out to the kitchen, where Kon is at the stove cooking up a veritable breakfast feast. Tim glances over at Damian, still dozing on the couch, with tussled hair and one arm hanging off the side, mouth wide open. He smiles softly, coming up behind Kon. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend's waist. “Mmm. Smells nice,” he mumbles.
Kon smiles softly. “I figured getting some food on his stomach would help whatever hangover he’s got going on,” Kon says.
Tim looks at the food again. Eggs, bacon, and sausage. “You’re very sweet, baby, but he won’t eat any of this. He’s a vegetarian. Actually, he might eat the eggs, I’m not sure.”
Kon freaks out. “Oh no, what am I gonna do with all this before he wakes up?” He whispers with urgency, and Tim laughs.
“We can still eat it. He doesn’t care if we eat meat around him, he just doesn’t want it.” Tim goes to the pantry, pulling out a box of pancake mix and bringing it to Kon, who is obviously relieved to have something Damian will eat before glancing at the box.
“Tim, these have eggs too. Go wake him up, ask if he eats eggs,” Kon suggests frantically.
“Relax, if he doesn’t want it, I’ll make him toast, or give him cereal. You’re overthinking this, babe.”
“He’s the first person in your family that knows….I just wanted to make a good impression,” Kon says, looking sheepish. Tim’s heart melts.
“Baby,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around Kon’s neck and kissing him deeply. He pulls away after a second. “They’ll love you because I love you, and because you make me happy. You don’t need to do anything special.”
They’re interrupted by a groan from the couch, and Tim looks over and sees Damian groggily sitting up before glancing over at them. His eyes go wide for a second, before seeming to remember. “Get a room,” he grumbles.
“This whole house is my room, actually,” Tim says lightly, but he steps away from Kon anyway, allowing him to go back to cooking. “Hey, do you eat eggs?” He asks Damian curiously.
Damian groans again. “I’m never going to eat anything again.”
Tim doesn’t budge. “Yes, you are. It will help, come on,” he goads as Damian gets up off the couch, walking to Tim’s breakfast bar. “Now, do you eat eggs?”
Damian shrugs. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Good. We’ve got eggs, and pancakes, then. Do you want some toast?”
Damian nods, and Tim busies himself getting that ready.
“How’s your head?” Kon asks Damian lightly, using his TTK to really show off while flipping the pancakes. Tim just rolls his eyes fondly.
“Pounding,” Damian whines. Tim grabs him a glass of water and a bottle of ibuprofen, sliding them over the counter. Damian looks at it with wide eyes. “But I’m not supposed to-“
“It’s fine, Damian. Just this once,” Tim tells him. Kon looks over in pure confusion as Damian carefully dispenses two pills, bringing them to his mouth and swallowing.
“It’s just Ibuprofen?” Kon asks, questioningly.
“We save the ibuprofen for the big stuff,” Tim explains. “Cuts down on the risk of bleeding stomach ulcers.”
Kon shakes his head in awe. “Human vigilantes are so weird,” He murmurs as Tim laughs. Tim and Kon bustle around the kitchen as they finish the food. Tim catches Damian’s eyes on them several times and tries not to bristle. They don’t feel judgmental, just curious.
Finally, the food is ready, and Tim slides Damian his plate as he and Kon both start to eat standing up on the other side of the bar, pressed together hip to hip. Damian looks at them before clearing his throat.
“I’m not going to tell,” he declares.
“Hmm?” Tim is lost as to what he could mean.
“I won’t tell Richard, or father, or anyone about you two,” Damian clarifies. Tim smiles softly.
“Thank you, Damian. But it’s alright. I’m going to tell them. Tonight, after patrol,” he says, gently. Kon looks over at him like a puppy dog, pure delight evident on his face.
“Really?” He asks excitedly.
Tim nods. “Yeah, it’s time.” Kon whirls around, wrapping his arms around Tim’s waist and backing away from the counter so he can spin him around. Tim feels his TTK spread over his body, Kon unable to keep it to himself in his obvious joy. “Oh my god, it’s not that exciting. Put me down,” he laughs.
Kon does, but he doesn’t stop beaming. Damian secretly looks a bit pleased himself. They eat the rest of their breakfast, conversing with each other easily. Damian only gets snappy twice, a real record. When they’re done, Tim walks over to the door, pulling his shoes on.
“C’mon, Dami. I’ll give you a ride back to the manor,” he instructs as his little brother and his boyfriend clear the dishes.
Damian looks at Kon, shifting awkwardly. “Thank you for the breakfast, and thank you for inviting me into your home,” he says awkwardly. Tim is quietly surprised. He didn’t think the politeness would continue once Damian was sober.
Kon takes it in stride, smiling at the boy and ruffling his hair until Damian swats his hand away. “It’s not a problem. You’re welcome any time. Just stay off the bottle, you hear?”
Damian groans. “Never again.” Tim and Kon both laugh, and they leave, making their way to the car.
“Seriously, Drake. Thank you.” Damian says softly once they’re in the car. He’s back to his last name, but Tim will take it. He smiles at his brother as they start driving.
“It’s okay, Kon’s right. You’re welcome anytime.” They drive in silence for a while, until they’re almost to the manor, then Damian pipes up.
“He’s good for you,” he says quietly.
“I know,” Tim says, a blush coloring his cheeks in slight embarrassment that his brother had picked up on that.
“I’m glad you’re telling everyone. They deserve to see you so happy. You deserve to be happy.”
Tim pulls up into Bruce’s driveway, looking at Damian seriously. “You should tell Bruce what happened,” he says.
“What?” Damian scoffs, shocked, and sounding betrayed. Tim barrels through.
“You don’t have to tell him about the alcohol, but tell him that they’re giving you a worse time than he thinks. He can help. He’ll take it to the school. You don’t have to let them treat you like this, Damian.” He insists.
“Yeah, maybe…” Damian trails off, looking up at the house. He pulls the door open, climbing out before looking at Tim. “Thanks for answering your phone,” he says quietly. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to. I wouldn’t, if I were you. I haven’t been kind to you.” Tim’s heart breaks.
“Of course I did, Damian. We’re brothers. I’ll always answer. You can call anytime, even if you just want to talk.”
Damian smiles softly at him. “Maybe I will,” he says, closing the door and walking up to the house.
For the first time in months, Tim feels full. He knows now that he doesn’t have to choose between lives, between his boyfriend and his family. It’s time for him to have both. He smiles to himself. “Thank you, Dami.”